May I Have This Dance?
by BuryTheHatchet
Summary: Tony, Ziva, Abby's persuasive skills and some wise words of advise from the Duck Man. I guess since it is about Tony, and it is about Ziva and there is a little bit of romance, I shall have to call it TIVA.
1. Brown Eyed Girl

**I know I promised the second chapter of Brown on Green, but when I finally upload it there is a very long author's note that explains what happened. But to tie you over until I get that sorted out, here is a little story to read. Have fun.**

Brown Eyed Girl

He watched as she sipped her mojito, her eyes focused on the grain of the wooden bar surface. She trailed her fingernail along one of the grooves created by many before her doing the same action as they thought, drunk or not, about what ever it was that had enticed them into the bar. In their case it was a Goth with a caffeine level higher than the average coffee shop. _'Aw, come on guys, just a few drinks, it will be fun!'_ Yeah, fun. He was sat at a bar staring at the woman of his dreams and unable to make a pass at her. There were rules against that sort of behavior, they were partners after all. But it wasn't just that, he wasn't really one for following all of the rules, and he could barely remember most of them. He knew that he could pick up any girl in the establishment, a fairly high-class bar with a few small tables but more emphasis on the large dance-floor, fancy sound system and reasonably good live band. 'Girls' had always been Anthony DiNozzo's specialty, right from his first day of school when another boy dared him to kiss one of the girls and he did, receiving a well thrown punch to the face – how was he to know that the girl's father was a martial arts and self-defense specialist? But women, women were a whole other kettle of fish, and the specimen in front of him was no exception, not by far. He'd tried with women before. Jeanne for one – she was more than a girl, more than just a cute medical intern, but then she was also a mission. It wasn't real with her, or that's what he tried to tell himself. But Ziva was more than even that. Ziva was his partner, his best friend, and easily the most beautiful woman in the building, not to mention the most dangerous. He guessed it helped to be attractive when you were an assassin. Helped to have a good body, nice curves, pretty face, really good… _Stop it! DiNozzo!_ Gibbs voice echoed through his head as he ran his eyes up and down her body, lingering slightly on the exposed skin and the top of the dress where it sat just above the small of her back, remembering what she looked like without the little black satin dress that she was wearing. Good to know his conscience had taken on the same tone as his boss. And the ability to head-slap him, no matter how metaphorically. He forced his eyes up to the profile of her face. She looked tired, somber. He hated seeing her that way, he liked to see the light in her eyes, the little twinkle she got when they were teasing one another or when they were pulling a prank on McGee, or when they were undercover together, her soft skin pressed against his, her curves fitting neatly… _DiNozzo!_ Yep, couldn't look at her any longer. He turned to his beer, the half empty glass not looking as appealing as it had when he had ordered. Or looking too appealing, he was struggling to decide. He couldn't help but notice that the colour of the Guinness was the same as the colour of her hair. _Stop, DiNozzo!_ He quickly looked to where he thought Abby and McGee had been sitting to be confronted with a gaggle of young blondes. He took a double take, literally.

"They are your type, no?" Ziva asked when she noticed his surprise.

"Er, dunno." He turned his head back to the bar.

"You do not know?" She looked at him incredulously. "I thought you were a fan of buxom blondes, no?"

"Well, it all depends on how drunk I am and how willing they are." He joked and Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Well, they look very willing." She muttered and slid out of the bar stool. "I am going to the bathroom." She walked off without another glance at him and he frowned.

"What was that?" He looked down at the wooden bar, taking up Ziva's habit of carving out the grain whilst she was unavailable.

"Abigail and Timothy are dancing, Anthony. That is what you were looking for in the first place, was it not?"

"Yeah, thanks Ducky." Tony sighed.

"What is bothering you, dear boy?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ducky. It's just…when you were younger, was there ever someone, y'know, special?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, when I was about your age, there was a young lady, Matilda her name was, and she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. Well, her father owned the shop down the street from where I was living at the time and I used to pop in every day for a pint of milk and half a dozen eggs just to see her. Oh, I lived off of a diet of anything with eggs and milk in for almost six months. Of course, she moved away, got married. I believe she had three children in the end. But I still dreamt about her every night. She really was a beauty, and so kind and warmhearted."

"You regret not telling her, Ducky?"

"Not telling her my feelings? Of course, but I can do nothing about it now. Many years have passed." He looked at Tony, then followed the young man's gaze to a couple stood talking on the edge of the dance floor. Her halter-neck black satin dress hugged her figure tightly, the open back giving a good view of her sculpted body. Tony would put money on the fact that Abby had dressed her. He would also put money on the fact that the dress had come out of the undercover section of her wardrobe, knowing that most of the dresses she owned belonged to that section, the section she had specifically collected for the purpose of missions. She would never have worn that of her own volition without a need to. The man she was talking to was tall and handsome, dressed in a smart suit, he would hazard a guess at Armani. He had dark, slicked back hair and a smug smile, one that said, 'I'm talking to a hot girl and by the end of the night she'll be begging me to take her home.' Tony knew that smile. He had worn that smile before. "Ah. Our dear Officer David. Oh, yes, someone special indeed." Ducky smiled. "Well, I think it time I ought to be heading off home. Mother will begin to worry." He patted Tony's arm. "Don't be like me, Anthony. Try to avoid regrets." And with that he walked out, casting one last look to Tony and then to Ziva. Tony took a long sip of his drink before standing up and making his way over to his partner. The band changed song and he grinned. He'd seen this movie.

"May I have this dance?" He interjected, blocking her view of Mr. Smug. She had seen the film to, they'd watched it together.

"Tony, I…"

"Ziva, no is not an acceptable answer." He took her hands and pulled her fully onto the dance floor.

Hey where did we go,  
Days when the rains came  
Down in the hollow,  
Playin' a new game,  
Laughing and a running hey, hey  
Skipping and a jumping  
In the misty morning fog with  
Our hearts a thumpin' and you  
My brown eyed girl,  
You're my brown eyed girl.

They kept in time with the music, on hand on her hip, the other locked with hers. She laughed as he pulled her from side to side, spinning her out and back in again.

Whatever happened  
To Tuesday and so slow  
Going down the old mine  
With a transistor radio  
Standing in the sunlight laughing,  
Hiding behind a rainbow's wall,  
Slipping and sliding  
All along the water fall, with you  
My brown eyed girl,  
You're my brown eyed girl.

They'd watched 'Sleeping with the Enemy' together on a Friday movie-and-pizza night. Before Jeanne. She missed those. It had been hard to restart the weekly tradition after Jeanne. Even more so after she had come back from Israel and he had come back from being Agent Afloat. There was no way to restart them though, both felt to awkward about asking, and both knew what was at stake.

Do you remember when we used to sing,  
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da  
Just like that  
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da, la te da

The tension that surrounded them had always been there, but it had never been so heavy. It weighed them down. They were drowning in the tension and they didn't have the security of the lifejacket that was the close friendship they used to have. It was only by treading water that they were staying above the surface, but they were both running out of energy. Any day now one or the other was going to give up, exhausted from the pretending, and let their guard down. And that was dangerous.

So hard to find my way,  
Now that I'm all on my own.  
I saw you just the other day,  
My how you have grown,  
Cast my memory back there, Lord  
Sometime I'm overcome thinking 'bout  
Making love in the green grass  
Behind the stadium with you  
My brown eyed girl  
You're my brown eyed girl

They both wanted it, and that was a problem because they couldn't have it. The desire was like lead weights around their ankles, pulling them down, because no matter how hard they fought, it was still there. There was no way to get rid of it, no way to trick it into thinking it was getting what it wanted. After all, all lead weights want is to be at the bottom of a pond.

Do you remember when we used to sing  
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da _lying in the green grass  
_ Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da _bit, bit, bit, bit, bit, bit  
_ Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da _sha la la la la la...  
_ Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da

The music faded out and they slowed their dancing to a halt. She kept one of her hands on his shoulder, the other still tightly clasped in his, their fingers locked together, whilst the hand that had been sat on her hip had somehow (Tony had no idea when he had moved it, or even if he had meant to) made it's way up to the back of her dress and the fingers were skimming along her smooth skin, tracing the outline of the satin. Their bodies were closer than they were when they had started dancing and he could feel her hot breath on his neck as she kept her eyes fixed on his. He looked at her, his brown eyed girl and smiled, trying to convey what he couldn't in words silently.

 **The song was 'Brown Eyed Girl' by Van Morrison, if you are interested. It is a good piece of music. Try reading this whilst listening to it. I wrote it whilst listening to it.**

 **There will be a second chapter up, possibly tomorrow.**

 **For my reference: 27** **th** **NCIS fic.**


	2. She

**Okay, so this was going to be uploaded yesterday, but I was lying in bed rather ill. It was not pretty. But, even though I am barely feeling 50%, let alone 100% better, I am just about well enough to just about check my emails and upload this now. And, it means that I get to spend a few days watching old NCIS episodes. Ah, season 3 and 4. What else could make me feel better?**

 **The song is 'She' by Elvis Costello. I just thought it fit perfectly.**

She

"Wait. One more." She hesitated. His eyes were boring into hers, trying to get her to open up, but she had long since stopped openly displaying her emotions to him. It got her nowhere but hurt. She'd already pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cold without his body pressed against hers. The band started playing and she froze. He took that as his opportunity to pull her close again, this time keeping both his hands on her hips. Her hands moved up to his shoulders without her wanting them to. He sang along with the words when they started, swaying from side to side with the music.

She  
May be the face I can't forget  
The trace of pleasure or regret  
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay  
She  
May be the song that summer sings  
May be the chill that autumn brings  
May be a hundred different things  
Within the measure of a day

His voice was soft, gentle. It was good, really good. She was surprised that she never knew he could sing. She moved closer to him subconsciously, her eyes locked onto his. She couldn't look away, he was mesmerizing.

She  
May be the beauty or the beast  
May be the famine or the feast  
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell  
She may be the mirror of my dreams  
The smile reflected in a stream  
She may not be what she may seem  
Inside her shell

He pressed his lips softly to the top of her head during the instrumental, continuing with their gentle swaying. She turned her face away from him when he pulled away slightly and he wanted nothing more than to be able to see her eyes again. His grip tightened on her waist, slipping one hand behind her back, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him.

She  
Who always seems so happy in a crowd  
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud  
No one's allowed to see them when they cry  
She  
May be the love that cannot hope to last  
May come to me from shadows of the past  
That I'll remember till the day I die

She had placed her forehead on his chest and her hands had wound their way to clasp his back, not wanting to have to let go. Not wanting the song to end. His voice was strong yet quiet as the words brushed against her ears. He had his head bowed down so his cheek grazed hers on occasion.

She  
May be the reason I survive  
The why and wherefore I'm alive  
The one I'll care for through the rough in ready years  
Me  
I'll take her laughter and her tears  
And make them all my souvenirs  
For where she goes I've got to be  
The meaning of my life is

He tilted her chin up with the hand that wasn't caressing the bare skin of her back. Ducky had said not to have regrets. This was something he would regret if he didn't do. He leant down, slowly, not singing the last words as he caught her lips in his. The kiss was slow and soft and gentle and tender.

She  
She, oh she

He felt the pressure on his back from where her arms had wrapped around him lift as he pulled away. She reached up and, with a feather-light touch, grazed her fingers along his cheekbone before backing away through the crowd. He stood, stunned, in the swarm of dancing people, all of a sudden feeling claustrophobic as someone bumped into him. He started pushing through the people, wondering when it had gotten so busy on the dance floor and realizing it was probably when he had been so absorbed in her. He ran up to the bar where he had left his Guinness and her mojito. "The woman I was here with. Do you know where she went?"

"Short black dress, pretty brown eyes?" The bartender asked as he poured a glass of red wine.

"Yeah?"

"Just ran out crying." He nodded to the glass doors that lead out into the street.

"Thanks." Tony called back, already running through the doors.

"Good luck." The bartender muttered and went back to serving drinks.

Tony looked in both directions, searching for Ziva along the dark street. He spotted her as she passed under a streetlamp, her stilettos in one hand and her other hand furiously wiping her face. He ran to catch up with her, uncertain of what it was he was going to say. She turned around and he could see the tearstains running down her cheek. Even waterproof mascara runs sometimes.

"You're gonna hurt your feet." That was his genius thing to say? He pointed to the shoes in her hand then down to her bare feet when she frowned at him, backhanding a few more tears that fell. She looked down and wiggled her toes.

"Why did you have to do that, Tony?" Her voice was quiet and shaky.

"Because I wanted to dance."

"Not the dancing! I liked the dancing! Why did you have to kiss me?!"

"Because I would regret not doing it." He stepped closer and she took a step back.

"But it was good before you did it! I was good before you did it! We were good before you did it!" The tears were flowing freely now and she had no power to stop them.

"God. Why do you do this? Why? Whenever something good happens, whenever I try, you just shut me down. You pretend nothing happened. Why do you do it?!"

"Because there are rules! Because it is what is best for the both of us!"

"According to who? According to you?! Why must you be right? Why is what you think what is correct?!"

"Because in this instance it is! Because you are always the one making the mistakes and I am always the one who has to stop it before it gets out of control!"

"But what if it doesn't get out of control?! What if it's just right? Perfect? You've just ruined it!"

"What we had before was good. It is you who has ruined it." She grew quiet all of a sudden.

"What we had before was good, but it wasn't great, Ziva. This could be great. We could be great."

"Now you just sound like a delusional egotistic dictator." She shook her head and turned away, continuing her long walk home.

"It was the best kiss, if that's any consolation. Best kiss ever." He said to the empty air where she had been standing. All he got in reply was silence. Gibbs was going to kill him. Or worse.

 **That was a different ending to what I had planned. It just sort of happened. Hm. I did not want this to be a sad story. Oh, well…I guess I will just have to write another chapter.**


	3. Annie's Song

**This is a lot longer than I had planned, both the story and the chapter. I am thinking there might be one, or even two, more chapters of this to go. Maybe. It depends how I feel. But I already know which songs I am going to use if I do.**

Annie's Song

She didn't know what had taken her there, apart from her feet. It was just where she always went, after a bad day in the office, a bad case, a bad date. She knew there would always be alcohol in the cupboard and a DVD in the reader. And she knew there would always be a shoulder to cry on, metaphorically, and a friend to talk to. Of course, he wouldn't be home yet – she had left before him and walked a lot faster than he would have, unless he took a cab. And since it was with him that everything had gone wrong with, his shoulder was probably not the one she wanted to cry on, literally. But there was no-one else. She had nobody else she could turn to, nobody she _wanted_ to turn to. She just wanted to sit in his arms, watch a film and forget the whole evening. Forget the way their bodies fit so well together as they kept in time with the music, forget how soft his voice was as he sang, forget how good he tasted. She pounded her fist against his door, but even before her hand connected with the wood she knew he wasn't there. She didn't know how she knew, she could just feel his absence. She exhaled and turned around, leaning back and sliding down the door, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The rational, sensible part of her was saying that she had to leave, before he returned, but the part of her that wanted to express her emotions told her to stay – after all, she was the one who yelled at him, for something that she wanted to happen. She didn't even know why she had reacted in the way she did. She buried her face in her knees and groaned. He had such an ability to confuse her, to mess with her mind. Just his presence could throw her off-kilter.

* * *

He knew she wasn't there as soon as he arrived outside her building. It was like she was a magnet and he was a chunk of iron. She was the sun and he was the earth, just orbiting her. It was like the gravitational field pulled him towards her, and he could feel it when ever he was in her presence. But he couldn't feel it. Not as he stood outside, looking up at the dark windows, not as he climbed the stairs and certainly not as he pounded on the door. He loved it at her place. It always smelt like her, fruity and spicy, like apples and cinnamon and ginger and peaches. He couldn't think of anything that smelt so good, anyone who smelt so good. She smelt like warm summer nights and crisp winter mornings, like petrichor and fir trees. He just had to go and ruin it, didn't he? He just had to be impulsive. He slid down the wall of the corridor outside of her apartment and placed his head in his hands. She was his best friend. His beautiful, exotic, assassin best friend. And he had feelings for her. God, what was wrong with him? Normal people don't have feelings for their best friends, do they? No, no they do not. That's just weird. Particularly when those feelings are unrequited. He slapped his palm against his forehead and groaned. "Fool, DiNozzo!" He grumbled to himself. How could he have been so stupid? He knew that she didn't feel the same way, but he just had to go and kiss her. And it felt really good. She tasted good, as good as she smelt, and the way their lips just…fit. He wasn't exaggerating when he said it was the best kiss.

At 0450h she still hadn't gotten home and Tony gave up. He stood and descended the stairs to the ground floor, walking out into the pale light of dawn. It wasn't a particularly long walk to his apartment from hers, it only took about half an hour, but the half an hour gave him time to clear his head. The whole night, as he sat on he door step, his mind had been cloudy, it had been impossible to think about anything but her lips on his, the warm tickle of her breath and the gentle pressure of her arms around his neck. But outside, with his feet treading the familiar path, an even rhythm, it gave him something to focus on – putting one foot in front of the other and keeping going. He nodded to the couple who lived in the apartment below him as they left for work and he entered his building. It didn't take him long to make his way up the two flights of stairs, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw her, curled up on the floor. He let a smile tug at his mouth before he remembered why she was there, why she had mascara stains marring her beautiful face and pain contorting her delicate features as she slept. It was his fault. He was the one who had kissed her, he was the one who had followed his gut and not his brain. He had been impulsive, not thought about any of the consequences. He had been thinking about things he would regret not doing, not the things he would regret doing. He sighed. She didn't look like she had gotten much sleep last night. He sighed and pulled his phone out, pressing speed dial one. He waited for Gibbs to pick up and started immediately in a hushed voice, still standing over her sleeping body in the corridor outside of his apartment. "Hey, Boss. Uh, sorry to call so early, but Ziva's sick, like too sick to come in to work today, so she's gonna stay round mine today and I'm gonna take care of her."

 _"_ _What was she doing there in the first place, DiNozzo?"_ Gibbs voice crackled down the phone, the implication clear in his voice – Rule 12.

"She slept on my couch last night." He lied.

 _"_ _If I find out that her illness is just a hangover, you are gonna…"_

"No, Boss, it's not a hangover. I think it's a stomach bug." Tony could hear Gibbs sigh over the line and he bit his lip.

 _"_ _Fine. Take care of her."_ He hung up and Tony looked down at her small body, the way her breathing moved her whole body captivated him. He leaned over her and unlocked the door before crouching down and awkwardly maneuvered her into his arms. She stirred slightly as he stood up and he froze, relaxing as she settled down. He used her feet to push the door open, continually insuring that she didn't wake, and carried her through into his bedroom, laying her down on his single. He slipped her stilettos off and tucked her in, brushing her hair out of her face and smiling sadly at her expression. He had hurt her. On more than one occasion. First Jeanne, then Jenny, now this. He never meant to hurt her. It was never his intention. But yet it seemed to keep happening. He backed out of the room and headed towards his bathroom. After a night on the floor of a corridor, he was in dire need of a shower.

* * *

She was warm. She had fallen asleep on the cold floor outside his apartment, she remembered that, so why was she now wrapped up in very soft, warm sheets, on a comfortable mattress. There was something familiar about it. The smell. It smelt like Tony, warm and recognizable, comforting. She let her eyes flicker open to the white room and smiled briefly at the sight. Tony's apartment. And then she remembered why she had been there in the first place, why she had been outside on the floor. He had kissed her. And then she had yelled at him for his troubles. It wasn't a bad kiss, either. Not that she expected it to be – he was Tony, after all – but it still surprised her. It wasn't the first time she had felt his lips on her own, but this time it was real, not just some elaborate game of make-believe in order to convince anyone watching from the outside that they were married assassins. She brushed her fingertips across her lips, remembering the previous night, the feelings that splintered through her body at his touch. She had spent her entire time in Israel trying to block those emotions, trying to forget about the feelings she harboured for her colleague and friend. That was why she had reconciled with Michael. Her father liked Michael, approved of him. Again, it dawned upon her that he, too, was a colleague. Maybe it was just because her work was her life that seemed to make it that the only men she ever felt truly attracted to were those who she worked with. It also occurred to her that all the men she found attracted to could, in one way or another, be considered dangerous. But it was more than just attraction with Tony; there was a connection between them, one that she had spent years trying to deny. She'd never felt that way before, not with anyone. Not Michael, or Roy. Just Tony's presence could ignite emotions in her that others had tried – and failed – to evoke from her. She could hear the shower running and she ran a hand over her face, swinging her legs out of the bed and groaning when she realized what she was wearing. Abby had chosen the skimpy black dress out of her undercover wardrobe. She walked over to the double doors set into the wall and opened them up, smiling at Tony's large array of clothes. He had more clothes than her. He probably had more clothes than Abby. And they were all organized by designer. She grabbed the first shirt she could, removing it from the hanger and pulling it on, blushing when she realized it was longer than the little black dress. She buttoned up the top half and gathered the two sides, tying them in a knot and bringing the length back up to her waist. Satisfied with her makeshift clothing, she padded barefoot through to Tony's kitchen, grabbing a green apple from the fruit bowl on the central counter before making her way into the living room. The sound of running water still emanated from the bathroom and she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. She scanned the CD shelf for something quiet to put on whilst she waited for him to finish in the shower, knowing that she needed something other than silence to distract her from the conversation that needed to be had. She, after debating over Presley or Costello, decided upon radio and she turned it on quietly.

You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,  
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,  
like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.  
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

The words described her perfectly and he had to stifle a scoff at the irony of it as he leant against the doorframe watching her. He could hear the crunch of the apple she was eating and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at his shirt, gathered roughly around her waist, and her tight black skirt hugging her thighs as she swayed gently to the music. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and he could tell, without even needing to see her face, that she was unhappy.

Nothing specific alerted her to his presence, just a feeling. A tingling on the back of her neck. She turned around slowly. He stood, lounging against the wall with a small smile on his face, a damp towel hung around his neck.

Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,  
let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,  
let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.  
Come let me love you, come love me again.

He walked over to her slowly, breaking eye contact and keeping his gaze fixed securely to the ground. The apple fell out of her hand and he yanked the towel from where it was draped across her shoulders. He took her hands in his and pulled her into the centre of the room. Neither looked at the other as they danced, both wearing solemn expressions. He twisted his hands in hers so they were palm to palm, interlocking his fingers with hers. She moved closer to him, her brain telling her body to stop and her body disobeying every order. She buried her face into his chest and his chin moved to sit atop her head. He wanted to start singing along, but he remembered what happened the last time he sang, and, although he wouldn't mind a repeat of the kiss, he didn't want the argument again.

You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,  
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,  
like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.  
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

He let a ragged breath out and pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her for a brief moment. "I'm sorry. I should not have kissed you." He whispered as he let go of her, his eyes fixed intently upon a spot on the wall. "You were right, what we had was good and I should have respected your wish to keep it that way."

 _"_ _Hello, it is half six in the morning and have we got a morning of music for you?! That was only the first of our songs of the seventies for the morning, there will be more from where that comes from as we progress with the day…"_

"Tony, we are going to be late." She stared at the radio, moving away from him to try and remove the temptation.

"Nope. We're not going in today."

"What?"

"I called Gibbs. We're not going in today."

"And how did you convince him to clear that?"

"I, uh…I told him you were sick and I was going to look after you." He mumbled, taking a peek at her angry expression. "Look, you were asleep on the floor and you looked tired and I guess we need to talk about last night at some point and there were very limited options at the time."

"So, you told Gibbs that I was ill, you kidnapped me whilst I was sleeping and then you just expect me to be fine with this?"

"Uh, no. There was no kidnapping, I just moved you from what I know from experience to be a very uncomfortable floor to what I know from experience to be a very comfortable bed. And I didn't know what you would think." He shrugged. "I just…sleeping on the floor is uncomfortable and not good for your back, not to mention the fact that it was cold out there."

"Thank you, Tony." She nodded and turned away. "I think we need to talk."

 **The song is Annie's Song by John Denver. Oh, how I love the music of the seventies. Really, truly the best decade for modern music. The 50s, 60s and 80s were okay, but by mid 90s things started going down hill, and by 2000, well, music hit a cliff and never recovered from the fall. There have been a couple of almost decent things in the past few years, but really, nothing great.**


	4. Cry Me A River

**I do not know how this turned out. Just read it and decide for yourself. One more chapter, maybe.**

Cry Me A River

 _"I think we need to talk."_

"Ziva, I…" He sat on the arm of his sofa, watching her carefully as she kept her back to him.

"Wait. I would like to say what I have to say first." She stopped him, still not turning around. She was looking at a photo on his mantle piece. It was of the two of them, laughing, at a crime scene. McGee had taken it and used it as inspiration to write a scene in his book, and then given it to him as a birthday present. She had initially been furious at McGee taking a photograph of them and not telling them, and then keeping it. In her eyes it was almost as bad as the photo's Tony had taken of her in her bikini. She let her mind drift back to that crime scene. They were exhausted and possibly in a state of sleep-deprived delirium. It had been a long case already and it didn't seem to be coming to a close any time in the near future. They were stood in a cornfield, the sun rising in the background. Tony had walked up behind her and slung an arm around her shoulder, pointing to something in the distance and making a joke. It wasn't even a funny joke, but for some reason she had found it hilarious, and her crazed laughing had triggered him to lose control too, and within moments they were laughing at nothing in particular, his arm still around her shoulder. Gibbs had yelled at them, and hit Tony, of course, but it still took them a few moments to regain some sense of sanity.

She jumped when she felt a light hand on her shoulder and whirled around. "I like that photo." He smiled. "You've been staring at it for ten minutes now."

"Oh." She nodded.

"You wanted to say what you had to say first."

"Right. Yes." She closed her eyes, not unaware that his hand was still on her shoulder.

Now you say you're lonely  
You cry the long night through  
Well, you can cry me a river  
Cry me a river  
I cried a river over you

She let the music wash over her, trying to formulate the words that she needed. He had hurt her, so many times. She had tried so many times to show him how she felt, and either he had known and ignored her, or he had just been completely oblivious. She couldn't decide which one was worse. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but still a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Come here." He wrapped his arms around her and she sobbed into his chest. This wasn't the way she had planned this to happen. She was going to tell him it was a mistake. That they should go on as if he hadn't kissed her, because it was not what she wanted, and it was not what he wanted, and they were best as just friends. But she couldn't. She couldn't lie.

Now you say you're sorry  
For being so untrue  
Well, you can cry me a river  
Cry me a river  
I cried a river over you

She seemed torn up about this. The night before she had been furious, upset about the kiss, but now she seemed more conflicted. He hated seeing her like that. He hated knowing that he had caused the pain in her eyes. "I shouldn't have kissed you last night. I thought I would regret not kissing you, but I don't think I would have regretted it as much as I regret kissing you now." He sighed and she looked up at him, frowning.

"You regret kissing me?"

"I regret making you unhappy." He smiled weakly as she pulled away from him.

You drove me, nearly drove me, out of my head  
While you never shed a tear  
Remember, I remember, all that you said  
You told me love was too plebeian  
Told me you were through with me and

She bit her lip. "What…what if I was wrong?" _What?! No! What are you doing?! What are you saying?! This is not right. Stop it. Shut up. You are supposed to be mad at him. You are supposed to be upset at him for kissing you!_

 _But it is what you want. You want Tony._

 _And you cannot have him! Stop it. Now! He is notorious for being a player, you know that! Stop it!_

 _But he is also kind. And it was a very good kiss._

 _What about Michael, huh? He is back in…you do not know where he is, do you? Abba likes Michael. A lot more than he would ever like Tony._

"Hey, you okay?" Tony's voice broke her out of her internal debate. She looked up at him.

"Pardon?"

"What did you mean, when you said you might be wrong?"

Now you say you love me  
Well, just to prove that you do  
Come on and cry me a river  
Cry me a river  
I cried a river over you  
I cried a river over you  
I cried a river...over you...

"Maybe…Maybe I was wrong and you were right."

 **Okay, so the song was originally written by Arthur Hamilton, but I was listening to the Roberto Pitre version, with Coté de Pablo singing as I wrote this, which, in my opinion, is the best, but I think there is something slightly surreal about writing this with Coté's version, because, well, it would just be weird. So let us just say that they were listening to Julie London's version. If your have not listened to the Roberto Pitre version, you really should, because it is amazing.**


	5. Can't Help Falling In Love

**I have a lot on at the moment, with not much time spare to write. However, I am trying to do as much as I can when I am not busy. There are going to be longer periods of time between updates now though. And** **this story, well, I do not know what I am going to do with it now...**

Can't Help Falling In Love

 _"_ _Maybe…Maybe I was wrong and you were right."_

"But what do you mean?" He frowned. She couldn't mean what he wanted her to mean, because he wanted her to mean that she was wrong about what they had, that she was wrong in suggesting that what they could have wouldn't be as good as what they already had. He wanted her to mean that she was wrong about being mad at him. That he was right for kissing her. But she had made her position quite clear the night before. She had made it perfectly obvious that she didn't feel that way for him.

"I think…I think maybe…"

Wise men say  
Only fools rush in  
But I can't help falling in love with you  
Shall I stay?  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you?

The first words of the verse hit her. What she was doing was not clever. Nothing good could come of it. Nothing good ever came from romance between coworkers. There was even a rule to prevent it. She had spent such a long time hiding her feelings, such a long time trying not to care, trying to stifle and smother the overwhelming emotions that coursed through her every time he was near. All that work to build up all the walls that protected her, kept her emotions in and kept Tony out, was going to go to waste. But she would pull them down herself in a heartbeat if it meant that she could be with the man she loved. Maybe the song was right, maybe only fools rush in. But then, maybe she was a fool. Maybe that's what love did to you. And that was hardly something she could control. The heart wants what the heart wants.

Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be  
Take my hand,  
Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help falling in love with you

Nothing is inevitable. That's what she had said. But maybe she was wrong. Again. Maybe some things were. Like the snow melting and the rain falling and the sun rising. And loving Tony. An inevitability. It was unavoidable. She couldn't help it. If she could choose whom she loved, she was certain Tony wouldn't be her first option. Or even her second or third. He might have made it into the top ten, at a push. But she did love him. She had no idea why, he was juvenile and inappropriate and most of the time a pain in the ass. But then, he was also brave and kind and loyal and trustworthy and she knew that she would never be able to truly deserve him.

Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be  
Take my hand,  
Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help falling in love with you  
For I can't help falling in love with you

"After last night, our friendship is, er, it will never be the same. But then, it has not been the same for a long time, has it?"

"No. I guess you're right." He said hesitantly.

"You…you were my best friend, and I…I feel that there has been something different, certainly since Jenny died, maybe even before."

"I'm not your best friend anymore?" It was obvious she had hurt him.

"I feel like I do not have my best friend anymore. You are not the you who was my best friend when I remember us being best friends. And I am not the me I was."

"Okay, look, can we just have one conversation without the riddles?"

"What riddles?"

"All you ever do is talk in riddles. I'm a simple guy, Ziva. I'm not a hobbit, and I'm definitely not Gollum, so talk in a way that I understand." He said slowly, making sure to get his message through.

"I do not talk in riddles!"

"You do! You always expect me to see some hidden meaning behind what you're saying and I never do!" He yelled. "God, I hate women."

"The way you flirt and sleep with every human with ovaries I would suggest that your feelings for women are completely the opposite!" She bit back.

"Maybe it's just you, then!"

"Oh, charming, DiNozzo! I try and tell you how I feel and you tell me that you hate me!"

"You're not telling me anything apart from the fact that you don't think I'm your best friend any more!"

"I was trying to get to that point!" The screaming match had apparently disturbed the neighbors, and there was a knock on the door. Ziva stormed over. "Yes?!"

"Er, we just wanted to check that everything was alright. There's a lot of shouting."

"No, no everything is not okay! Do you think we would be shouting if it were?!" She slammed the door in their face and Tony glared at her.

"Thanks for that. I'm now gonna have to apologize to my neighbors, not only for shouting but for how rude you just were to them!"

"I cannot believe you!" She ran through to the bedroom and grabbed her heels, heading towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

"Home, to shower and change, and then to work!"

"We're not done talking!" He walked over and slammed his palm against his door before she could pull it open, holding it firmly shut.

"We are not talking at all, we are yelling!" Their faces were inches apart. Time froze. Eyes locked. Breathing slowed. Silence descended. He kissed her softly, not wanting to set her off again.

"What are we doing, Ziva? Why are we arguing?" He sighed.

"Because we are us." She smiled sadly. "We are complicated."

"I thought you said that was code for things that the other person wouldn't understand or agree with?"

"We are complicated." She repeated, looking up into his eyes.

"I'll make it simple, then." He pressed his lips to hers, firmer this time. "Let's give it a go."

"What is 'it'?"

"You. Me. Us." He pleaded with her and her eyes faltered.

"What if it does not work?"

"If it doesn't work, we'll fight, then cry a little, then I think we'll, somehow, manage to patch it up. We might even be able to go back to friends. But I don't think it will come to that. I think we'll be perfect."

"Tony I…so many times…" She closed her eyes and placed her head on his chest. "So many times, you have done something, or said something, or not done something, and left me heart broken, and you do not even realize. I cannot…I do not know how many more times I can…when I was in Israel, I tried to move on, I tried to block the feelings that I had for you. And when I came back, so did those feelings. It was like a flood and I tried, again, I tried to tell you and you did not notice. My heart does not have many more breaks left in it."

"What if I promise never to break it again?"

"You cannot promise that, Tony. Sooner or later you will fall in love and I will shatter all over again." She inhaled and looked up at him. "I am sorry, Tony, I cannot…it is for the best…for both of us."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't accept that. Why do you think I'll fall in love with anyone? I already love _you_."

"You are mistaken, Tony."

"No." He shook his head.

"Tony, please do not make this harder than it has to be."

"If you're leaving, I'm gonna make it as hard as possible. Over the past four years, I've gotten to know the woman I love. And I think you love me too, don't you?" She nodded and he smiled. "What do we have to lose?"

"Everything, Tony. Our friendship, our partnership, our jobs."

"I'm happy to lose them all for love. I'm prepared to lose them all for you."

"I cannot afford to do that."

"Yes, you can. Look, if it goes wrong, then I will transfer to a new team. I will leave DC because I won't be able to live in this city without you anymore anyway. You can continue to be here with Abby and McGee and Gibbs and Ducky. Please, give it a shot?"

"Tony, I…"

 **The song is 'Can't Help Falling In Love' by Elvis Presley. I had not meant for that fight. It just happened. This is the last chapter. For now. I am going to leave it up to your imaginations as to whether she said yes or not, at least until I can come up with another song. I will not mark it as complete for now, but I cannot guarantee that means that there will be another chapter. I will try and find some inspiration somewhere, but that may not happen for quite a while.**


End file.
